Red Leaf Falling

The Red Hand - "Finalist" in Writers of the Future short story contest
"It's called a cage, Decc. We're all living in cages, and I want freedom, for your son, for my grandson."
"I believe in your sincerity, Shiru," Decc said. "You think you see a cage. But you would be surprised to find, if you broke down the bars, that it was the wall holding up your house, and you had just brought the whole thing crashing down on your head. So I'll do what I must."

The Silver Dragon lurks under the stones of this city. It's a disease. It's fire in a bottle. If it breaks, everything burns to the ground. The order, the harmony, the perfect rhythm. Our whole way of life.
I am the Red Hand, and I will do anything to stop them.

Blood Mage
She looked up at him. "Jonn, do you ever feel... I dunno. This place just doesn't feel right?"
"No," he said, tensing his jaw. "This is exactly where I belong."

I've finally shaken off the shackles of my narrow-minded family. I'm on my way to become the greatest mage the City has ever seen. But it's not quite what I'd always pictured. There's something sinister about this place.

Rain Flight - "Honorable Mention" in Writers of the Future short story contest
It hasn't rained in two hundred days. Rhuin could pull a green leaf off a bush and crush it between his fingers. It would crumble to ash and fly away on the wind. The ground under his boots, good brown earth, was as hard as a stone, cracked like a plate someone had tried to patch back together, the seams running on endlessly in front of him. When his dragon stretched out her wings, the dust cloud would climb a mile high.
It was time for the Rain Flight.

They're everything I ever wanted to be. The way they stand so tall and broad, wide faces and straight shoulders. Their confidence, their freedom, their nobility. The way they seem to fit into the curve of their saddles like fingers intertwined. It's the way they fit into the world. They always seem to be striding forward, eyes gleaming bright- not just dealing with danger, but running out to meet it, together. They were the ones who hadn't waited for the rain to come back; they had gone out to find it. They were the people who tamed dragons.

The Mortal Archive - "Honorable Mention" in Writers of the Future short story contest
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but wandering without a clue for two years hasn't done us any favors yet. May I remind you our contract is about to expire?"

The Mortal Archive has been lost for centuries, and I'm the lucky duck that scored a contract to find it. (The fact that my sister is in charge of the Legion of the Wastes that hired us has nothing to do with it.) The Archive is supposed to hold unimaginable treasures, knowledge lost to mortals for a thousand years. The curse on the Archive? That's just a myth.